My fingers find the edge of her sweater and lift it. We break long enough for the thick material to slip over her head, and then her lips find mine again. I don’t miss the tremble in her fingers as she works the buttons of my flannel. At three buttons, I give up the torture and yank the shirt from the back of my neck, slip it over my head, and expose the holster of my arm.
“Take it off,” I suggest, and her eyes narrow in on the contraption.
“Tell me how.”
My hand covers hers as I guide her to remove one strap and then the other, slipping the large holster off my back. The sock comes next, and she rolls it down, wiping at the skin as she tugs. Moisture can gather there, and I’m worried I’ll offend her somehow, but she’s cautious and curious, and then she surprises me by leaning down and pressing a series of kisses over the puckered skin.
I’ve had women obsessed with this part of me, wanting me to do all kinds of things to them with it. I’ve also encountered women repelled by the stump but not repelled enough to reject the entirety of me. But I’ve never met a woman who took such care to caress this piece, and I swallow back the lump in my throat.
“Bee,” I warn, worried I’ll break even more if she keeps up the attention. She stands to her full height, gripping my T-shirt in her fists and pushing it upward. With her chest uncovered, I unsnap her bra. If we’re going to be skin to skin, I want it all. Her breasts are smallish, but as I’ve told her before, they fill the palm of my hand, and that’s all I want from her. Her eyes close as I cover one, tugging taunt the nipple, which is already hard. Lowering for the tip, I swallow her, laving the sharp point.
Her fingers scrape at my scalp, holding my head to her breast. She whimpers when I move to the other one. My fingers find the button of her jeans, and she pushes at my shoulder, so I stand as her hands find the waist of my pants.
“I’m fine if all we do is touch,” I tell her, stroking a finger along her waist while it flinches and flexes.
“I want more,” she states, keeping her voice steady as her fingers work at my jeans. “I’m going to need to sit to remove these.”
My first thought is that she means my pants until she hops to the bed, and I realize she means hers.
“We’re quite a pair,” I tease, knowing there might be limits to our fantasies of each other, but there won’t be any barriers between us. I take down my own pants while she struggles to remove hers. Kicking off my boots, I reach for hers and tug them forward, which makes her fall back on the bed.
She laughs, and I draw in the sound, knowing once again this is how it should always be with her. Laughter in bed. Leaning forward, I climb over her.
“Scoot back.” She wiggles up the bed until we both cover most of it, and then I slip a leg between hers. My body blankets most of her as I balance on one arm. Her head rotates to my severed limb and back to my full arm. She’s not comparing them but sizing up the situation. Sparing her all thoughts, I kiss her. Within seconds, one leg wraps over mine, and she shifts so that our fronts collide. She’s moved me in a way the weight comes off my arm, and we meld into each other as our mouths lead the way.
We’ve been in this position before, discovering one another, but tonight feels different. The kisses linger, speaking without words. I want this woman more than anything in the world. Only her and this night.
I press her to lay on her back, and then travel down her body, sprinkling kisses on her shoulder, at her neck, and down her chest. I suck each breast once before continuing lower. My teeth find the band of her underwear, and I tug one side while my fingers pull down the other. My nose skims over her hip bone. She’s too thin, and I suck at the projection a moment before continuing to lower.
“Honey,” I state, knowing she’ll be sweet and dripping when I meet her center.
“Oh God,” she moans, and I haven’t even touched her.
“You ready for this, Bee?” I ask, a smile curling my lips, which latch onto her before she even answers. I delve into her, savoring the nectar and devouring her essence. She whines and whimpers, combing fingers through my barely-there hair. Without cognizant words, she begs me to take her to the edge, but there’s no way I’d stop until she reaches it. Her heel presses into my shoulder blade as her thighs tremble and then she cries out my name in a soft, thrusting purr. With a last lick and a final kiss, I rub my nose down her thigh before climbing back up her body. She’s melted wax from a hot candle, and her smile says it all.
“Did you enjoy that?” I flirt, knowing the answer. The foot that found my back hooks over my hip, nudging me toward her.
“Condom?” I ask, knowing this is a tricky question. I don’t carry them around lately, and I’m assuming Beverly doesn’t have them stashed in a drawer.
“It’s been too long,” she states, her voice low and choked, embarrassed by her lack of practice. My fingers find her chin as I roll to my side, forcing her to look up at me.
“None of that matters.” I’m actually thrilled I’ll be her first in a long time. “But we need to be safe.”
It’s been a while for me as well, though not near as long as Beverly.
“I can’t get pregnant,” she states, her eyes closing with the thought. “After losing a few, the doctors tied my tubes. I didn’t want to risk any more failures.”
“Not failures, Bee. Angels not ready for this earth.”
She nods and swallows thickly.
“I’ll need you to trust that I’m clean.”
Her eyes pop open, giving me a long look.
“We can stop if you want,” I offer. I’ll get a test, I’ll prove myself, but her eyes tell me there’s nothing she wants less than more time.
“I’m good, if you’re good. I…” I swallow back my own admission. “I’ve never done it like this.” Never been tempted before, knowing no one would last with a man on the road.
“Let me be your first.” She has no idea how many firsts she’s already been.
I roll over her, spreading her legs with the width of my hips. Resting just outside of her, I return to kissing her, assuring her with my lips there’s no one I’ve ever wanted more. Her hips roll upward, searching for friction, and I smile at her impatience.
“You’re going to need to assist me.” I press up on one arm, but I need her to lead me home. Her fingers tentatively wrap around me, and I jolt. She squeezes, and I scowl.
“Bee,” I warn. A smile graces her face, knowing what she’s doing to me. She brings me to her entrance and then releases me as I work my way in. My breath hitches at her warmth as I slide freely into her depths. Slowly, I press forward, feeling my heart race within my chest, feeling her clench around me. It’s too much. She’s too much.
“Bee,” I strain, wanting to rush but enjoying each minute thrust as she brings me into her. Once sheathed to the hilt, I pause. My arm quivers as all the strength of my body works to resist pulling back and slamming into her. Reckless and wild like the broncos I train, I want to be free with her, but I also want to absorb this pleasure. “You okay?”
“Hmm….” Her head rolls to the side as her fingers dig into my hips. “Move,” her lips say although there’s no sound.